Momentum
by JX Valentine
Summary: You wake up with no memories, no identification, and no clue. All you know is you're stuck in an underground tournament spanning Goldenrod City, and the other contestants want you dead. Accepting OCs!
1. Introduction

**01: Introduction**

The first thing you notice, upon waking up, is that the room around you is dimly lit. Craning your neck, you find yourself on a bed positioned with the headboard against the exact center of one wall. The bed's mattress is hard under your body, and the brown blanket is thin and coarse. You shiver and sit up.

There's not much to see. Across the room (which isn't that big to begin with), you spot a wooden dresser next to a wooden desk and chair set. Between the foot of the bed and the dresser, a beam of sunlight strikes a patch of the dirty, green carpeting. You follow it to see heavy, brown curtains covering most of another wall. Turning your head, you look at the other wall to see three doors: one leads to a small bathroom, one leads to an empty closet, and the last one is closed with a chain on it. Tags hang from the third door's handle, and a sign is posted under the peephole.

Getting up, you shuffle across the room. You realize that your clothes – gray slacks, white shirt, gray blazer – are heavily wrinkled, but it doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere, it seems.

Looking at the sign on the door, you realize it's a map. The label in the corner reveals where you are: the ninth floor of a hotel. Searching your pockets for the key, you find a few things. First, you pull out a handful of small, red-and-white orbs made of plastic; they fit in the palm of your hand like they were meant to be there. In the other hand is a keycard (the one to the room) and a gray cell phone. You're carrying nothing else. No ID. No money. Nada.

It occurs to you right about then that at least one of those would have been useful. Not the money. The ID. Struggle with your memory as much as you want. You can't remember who you are. It troubles you. Of course it would. One would have a name, and anyway, you feel like your head's flooded – like there's a murky mess inside your skull, just waiting for you to wade knee-deep into it. Bringing a hand to your temple, you mentally reach into the mess.

Seconds later, you're on the floor, staring into the sunlight. You're not sure what happened, but it felt like your eyes were blasted by a barrage of flashes. There were numbers. Facts. All kinds of things flooding your brain, and you could just barely make sense of what you were seeing before it flitted away like some kind of weird subliminal butterfly. It takes you awhile before your body finally stops feeling like the floor is an ocean.

Frustrated, you pick yourself up and walk across the room to the window. Throwing back the curtains, you find yourself momentarily blinded by the daylight. You figure it must be around noon for the sun to be that intense. Squinting, you look through the dingy window to the rusted rails of a fire escape.

Beyond that is a city. You can't see too much of it because other buildings are in the way, but from what you can tell, it's like a forest of brick and steel and glass and light. Taking a step backwards, you inhale in surprise. You stand there, breathing for a few minutes as you stare outward at the flashing signs of the metal forest, at the rooftop across the alley right next to the hotel, at the brown birds – the pidgey – gathering on the edges of buildings…

Huh. That's weird. You just remembered a name. Following the string of thoughts, you realize you can remember more than that. You remember that it's a pokémon, one that's extremely common in at least two regions. You remember its type. You remember its basic attacks (Gust, Tackle, Sand-Attack). You remember that it's only one of almost five hundred monsters that populate the planet. You remember that it evolves into two other pokémon after it's raised a little. You even remember which types it goes great against in battle.

You also remember that you have something to do with pokémon, but you can't remember what. All you've got right now is this weird feeling that it's so very familiar to you. You reach into your pocket to pull out one of the orbs – a poké ball, as you suddenly remember – but end up with something else in your hand instead.

It's your cell phone. Or, at least, you guess it's your cell phone. Flipping it open, you press a few buttons, watching each icon on its face highlight in turn. Eventually, you find the phone book, hoping that it might give you some clues as to who you are and why you're there. You're only vaguely surprised to find it empty. The call log displays a few numbers you don't recognize, and your message inbox hasn't been used.

Before you can think about trying one of the numbers, the phone rings in your hand. Even it is pretty generic: a three-tone ring that trills over and over again until you finally punch a button and bring the phone to your ear. You don't recognize that number, either, and you don't know woman who's speaking to you on the other end.

"Good morning. Are you still in?"

You blink. "What?"

"We've received your application, and we're pleased to welcome you to the roster. Your first race begins now. To receive full marks, you must obtain the emblem hidden on the roof of Goldenrod Radio Station. We've sent you a map from your current location to your destination. Do you understand?"

"…No?"

"Good. You may begin when you're ready, and remember, move quickly! Your competition is already on their way."

The call cut off. You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at it for awhile. No matter how long you think about it, that conversation definitely did not make sense in your mind. Before you can meditate for long, however, the phone rings for a second time. It's a different number – yet again one you can't recognize. Answering it, you're surprised to hear a man's voice this time around.

"Kid? You're just sitting around, aren't you?"

"Who is this?" you ask, your voice rising in frustration.

"Whoa there," he says. "I get why you'd be pissed, but trust me. This is no time to start barking at the wrong dog. Now, you'd better get your skinny butt over to Goldenrod Radio right now 'cause let me tell you, all of those answers you're looking for? They ain't in that hotel room. Get what I'm saying?"

"No," you growl. "No, I don't."

"You will. Now get moving."

Turning towards the window, you narrow your eyes at the fire escape. "Why should I listen to you?"

"'Cause I'm the closest thing you've got to a friend right now."

There's a moment of silence. You don't want to dignify that with an answer, not that you had any arguments anyway. With so little information, you just don't know how to respond. Walking forward, you undo the lock and push open the glass door. The cold breeze blows through the crack, and it carries with it a dirty smell of metal and diesel.

And then the fire escape explodes.

You find yourself knocked back, across the room and into the door. Part of you is surprised that it didn't give way and send you sailing into whatever was behind it; the rest of you is telling that part to shut up and thank the gods that you neither went through it nor soiled your pants. Blinking, you see the hole that was once the window. Its edges are charred, and the rusted metal of the fire escape is now twisting into it. Glass litters the floor. The curtains are on fire. Through the walls, you hear people scream, but it doesn't register to you.

The reason why is because beyond the hole, on top of the building across the alleyway, you see two figures. On the left is a red and yellow blob (a blob mainly because your eyes are still watering from the pain of being thrown across the room into a door), and right next to it is one that's all black. You can't quite make out what either of them are, but the black one turns away. The red one, meanwhile, wobbles. A red, five-pointed figure sails towards the hole. It takes a few moments for you to recognize it as a Fire Blast and roll out of the way.

This time, the door doesn't stand a chance. Neither does the bed or the desk or any of the other furniture. Come to think of it, your entire room is apparently pretty flammable.

Also, you just now realize that you never hung up on that guy. Shaking, you do the most logical thing that occurs to you at that moment: you bring the phone to your ear again.

"Kid? _Kid! _You okay?!"

You croak.

"See what I mean? The other guys in this game? They're not going to be friendly. Now get moving before they realize you're not dead yet!"

The call ends with a click. You snap the phone shut and shakily rise to your feet. They feel like someone took the bones out of them, but somehow, they support your weight. You stumble to the hole and look out to discover the figures on the roof are gone. The shouting has grown louder since the first attack, and sirens are blaring in the distance. Looking up, you see that the ninth floor is the second-to-topmost floor of the building. You can reach the roof if you can just get on the fire escape (what's left of it, anyway) and climb to the top.

Carefully, you grasp the twisted metal. It's hot – nearly burning. Nope. It's not going to hold your weight – or, rather, you're not willing to grab it with both hands and a firm grip. There's another option already going through your head. It's one that you would have preferred not to take, but you have the strangest feeling that the only sane option (the one involving you walking out the proper door to the hotel room and into the hallway) was one whoever's been calling you wouldn't want you to take.

Looking across the alley, you eye the other rooftop. You have the feeling you might make it if you jumped high enough, but then again, because you don't remember anything about yourself, you don't exactly trust your judgment about how far your body can jump right now.

So, you decide to take the sanest option you've got. You turn and walk across the burning room until you reach the doorway. Then, you turn around and bolt for the hole.

You leap.

---

**Author's Note:**

There you have it – the prologue, I mean. To recap, we've got a character (known for right now as "you," although this isn't a choose-your-own-adventure kind of fic) with no memories stuck in a tournament that takes place throughout Goldenrod City – a tournament known simply as the UG Royale. The goal? To be the first one to reach each target in a "race," a free-for-all battle with a moving battlefield where participants do everything they can to keep their opponents from completing the challenge. The prize? Supposedly, it's something that will grant a person's wildest dreams. The rules? Stay one step ahead of your enemy.

Because of the nature of this fic, OCs are welcome. If you wish to submit a character, keep in mind that the characters you submit are _not_ the "you" described throughout the story but instead the people (s)he encounters. They can be friends, enemies, participants (people actually competing in the races), guides (people who call up participants to give them advice and directions to the next objective), or just random innocent bystanders/cheerleaders.

To submit a character, just PM or leave a review, whatever you're more comfortable with. Use this form or create some variation of your own:

**Name:**

**Codename:** (Participants all have the names of flowers as their codenames – yes, even the guys. Guides are referred to by the names of stars. Wikipedia is your friend. Apple is already reserved.)

**Age:** (10+ for participants; 18+ for guides)

**Gender:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**History:** (Note: Remember, the UG Royale is being held in Goldenrod City. So, yeah, if you want to include up until the part where your character gets into the race, there you go. Yes, you can also have amnesia if you want, but please don't _everyone _send me amnesiac characters.)

**Pokémon:** (Up to six, no legendaries. Tell me as much as you like about them.)

**Role:** (Participant, guide, bystander… what is this character doing in this fic?)

**Motivation:** (For participants, remember that the prize in this tournament is something that will grant their wildest dreams. They don't know what that would entail, but why would they want it? For guides, be creative. What would they get out of it if their participant won? For bystanders… I guess any variation of "cheering X on" will do.)

**Anything Else?:** (Got something else to get off your chest about your character? Go for it.)


	2. Tutorial

**Author's Note:**

Sorry about how long it took to get the next chapter out. Between real life and the fact that I actually wasn't expecting that much of a response (Thank you!), I didn't have much time to get something written down. Now, I think I know where I'm going with this idea, and I'll definitely try to get out a new chapter every week or two.

As for your characters, thanks so much for sending them in, and feel free to keep doing so. All of them will be used eventually, though I might have to change the codenames for a few. (Remember, participants are named after flowers, and guides are named after stars. Bystanders don't really need codenames, but if you wanted to give yours one, that'd be totally cool by me.) There might also be another class of character available, but I'll decide whether or not I'll accept character submissions for those by the time I submit the third chapter.

Rambling aside, how's about chapter two?

* * *

**02: Tutorial**

You realize belatedly that jumping from a window before figuring out your physical limitations in order to reach a rooftop that's roughly a story above your starting point is probably a bad idea. You're also pretty sure you invented half of the curses that come out of your mouth as soon as you notice this. Although you're not entirely sure what kind of person you are, you get the feeling you'd be proud of yourself for your creativity under pressure if you weren't, at that moment, sailing in a nice arc towards a brick wall about three stories downward.

Knowing that your head is about to splatter into something very hard in a few short seconds, you shut your eyes and brace yourself as if that would actually help. However, by some miracle, you don't feel the sharp pain of your skull bashing inwards. In fact, what you feel instead is your stomach hitting something cold and hard and your breath bursting out of your mouth in a sharp puff. At first, you think this is the instant after death where you get deposited unceremoniously onto Heaven's floor (or the floor of wherever you go after you get snuffed), and the fact that you feel yourself rising really doesn't help you think otherwise.

Against your better judgment, you open an eye to find out where you are. Then, you open them both, and you open them wide.

Seeing the ground and the edge of the rooftop you were aiming for slowly drop from beneath you would do that to a person.

Now you start to panic. In hindsight, you'll probably think that it doesn't make sense that you only decide to panic now, but you can't help yourself. You scream, you flail, and you pitch forward on whatever was lifting you towards the sky, and as a result, you slide off and crash face-first into the tarred roof. After all that excitement, you decide to stay there for awhile until you tilt your scratched face upward and squint at the scenery ahead of you.

A pair of legs clad in jeans squat in front of you.

"That might just be the most creative suicide attempt I've ever seen in my life. Hats off to you," he says.

He offers you a hand. You stare at it for a long time, as if it doesn't register to you. Five fingers, pale skin... your eyes follow his arm up to the black sleeve of his t-shirt and then to his face. His black hair obscures his eyes a little, but you can see his blue eyes behind strands of it. You can tell he's studying you by the way he stares at you with an intensely serious gaze.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks. "Look, you're not brain dead or anything, are you? I don't want to spend all afternoon sorting through that kind of mess."

You narrow your eyes a little more at him. "You're not the one who attacked me, are you?"

"Me? Nope. I'm just here to help."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Enemy of my enemy. I saw the one who attacked you – Windflower. Let's just say she's not my candidate for Little Miss Sunshine. Now, if I can venture a guess, I'd say she attacked you because you're the one who's up against her in a race, right?"

You nod and force yourself to your knees. Your new friend adjusts his hand but keeps it held in front of you. Eventually, you decide he doesn't look like he's about to shove you off the roof, so you take it and let him pull you to your feet.

"Figures," he says. "So, why're you hanging around, then? Shouldn't you be running?"

You stare at him. Looking at the blank expression on your face, your friend raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, don't tell me you're new," he sighs.

Instead of saying anything, you just shrug. This causes him to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose.

"A newbie against Windflower. They must hate you."

"Who?"

He shakes his head. "Look, it's not important right now. I'll tell you what. I'll help you out just this once, but after that, I'm going to just pretend you know how to play the game, okay?"

You raise an eyebrow. Something about his offer doesn't seem right to you.

"Why would you do that?" you ask.

"Like I said, enemy of my enemy," he replies. "I'm not in a race right now, and Windflower pisses me off. If you win this one, then I'll be less likely to face off with her. Make sense?"

Well. You can't argue with that logic. So, you shrug.

He snaps his fingers, and a floating, white ball with black horns sails around you. You jump as it bobs by your friend's side and eyes you with eyes just as cold and blue as its master's. Something clicks in your mind, and you immediately match that look to a pokémon's face in your head. Glalie, ice-type, the face pokémon. You know right away that its body is actually made of rock, but its skin is an ice armor.

Cold. Hard. Floating. Well, now you know what caught you before you face-planted into a brick wall.

Patting your savior fondly, your friend grins.

"By the way, this is Dolly. You can thank her for saving your hide later," he says. "So, let's start off by asking you this. What's your mode of transportation?"

You blink. "My what?"

"Your mode," he repeats. "In a jam, I ride on Dolly here. Got any pokémon that can get you to where you're going fast?"

The poké balls. It occurs to you right now that whatever might be contained in them could have been useful to you at any point up until now. You know, for things like putting out fires, escaping burning buildings, or just teleporting yourself to wherever you should be right now.

You clear your throat and do your best to avoid looking intensely awkward. Of course, you fail in that regard, but your friend seems to be a decent enough guy not to point out the fact that you're blushing and fumbling for the objects in your pockets. You don't hesitate when you take them out, either. As soon as three are in each hand, you click the buttons on their fronts and flick them skyward. It doesn't occur to you until afterwards that the motion felt very natural, as if you were going back to an action you did millions of times before – which was probably true.

The balls burst open, and light rains down on the rooftop. In front of you, six monsters appear as each flash of light fades. Your friend puts his hands on his hips and looks over your loyal team while each member cries out in the sheer happiness of being able to serve you.

"Charmeleon... Nidoking... Kingler... Jolteon... Exeggutor... Ursaring."

He purses his lips and says nothing more. You look at him.

"What?" you ask.

"Your team sucks," he tells you bluntly. "None of them can carry you."

You decide you don't really like this new friend of yours.

"Well?" he asks. "Don't just stand there. Recall them and get ready!"

Knowing fully well that just standing around and doing nothing would be, in fact, a bad idea thanks to the fact that you're in a race, you at least follow his first order. The pokémon don't seem to mind being recalled so soon. A few of them give you confused looks, but they don't resist the red beam of energy that draws them back into the orbs in your hands.

As soon as they're safely stored away, you stuff the balls back into your pockets and turn to your new friend. He wasn't watching you, it seems. Instead, he crouched, and right now, he leans against one of his legs as he pushes his fingertips into the tar. Dolly floats behind him, pointing her horns forward.

"Get ready for what?" you ask.

"This!" he responds.

Then, he takes off into a sprint. You jump as you watch him race towards the edge of the rooftop with his glalie in tow. He doesn't even bother to wait for you when he gets to the edge. Instead, he jumps off it, sails across the gap between the building you're on and the one beside it, and lands feet first onto the next rooftop. Only then does he stop and turn, but it's only to motion to you with the swing of one arm.

"Come on!" he shouts. "You're behind!"

You raise your eyebrows. He's serious. So, you do the most logical thing in your head at that moment: run after him.

When you reach the edge, you look out towards the next rooftop. The gap isn't actually that wide. In fact, as you stop to glance down it, you notice that it's just barely wide enough for a small car.

And then, you realize looking down might not have been the best idea. When you look straight down, vertigo hits you hard. Your head swims, your body sways, and your arms flail, and in the next instant, you pitch forward with a yelp. Dolly swings forward and catches you without a problem, and for the second time, you find yourself dumped unceremoniously onto the tar roof.

"Come on!" Your companion bends down to grab you by the elbow and yank you to your feet. "Where're you going? I don't know where Windflower went from here."

You blink and steady yourself. "Goldenrod Radio Tower... I think."

"You think? Let's hope you're right. Follow me, and this time, when you jump, don't look down!"

With that, he turns and sprints towards your right. You hesitate for only moment before starting after him. This time, you take his advice when you reach the edge of the roof, and with your eyes firmly fixed to the sky, you jump, sail through the air, and land perfectly on the next roof. Your partner doesn't even stop to look back towards you; he's already dashing away, towards the next building.

As you follow him, you feel something buzz in your pocket. Without stopping, you reach into it and feel the plastic case of your cell phone vibrating. You leap across the next gap and land as you skillfully (somehow, anyway) pull your phone out of your pocket, flip it open, and bring it to your ear just in time to hear the man who called you in your hotel room.

"What the hell are you doing with Anemone?"

Anemone. Is that Dolly's owner? The black dot you know to be your partner doesn't stop to notice you talking, so without thinking twice about the caller's question, you continue to run just to keep up with him.

"He seems nice," you say.

"Most of them in this damn race do," the caller snaps. "He's guiding you to Goldenrod Radio Station. You can follow him if you want, but don't let your guard down. Anemone's good. He's lasted this long, and I don't think he did it by making friends."

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No. I pulled up the profile for your opponent. Windflower. Popular belief among the other players says she's a bitch, but at least you can tell when she's about to stab you in the back."

You growl as you jump to another roof. Whoever this guy is, he's certainly not making you feel good right now.

"Is there anyone in this game who isn't going to be trying to screw me over?" you ask.

Without hesitation, the caller replies, "Me."

"Gee, thanks. I don't even know who you are."

"I never told you?" He pauses. "Call me Deneb. Oh, and kid?"

"What?"

"You're about to jump into an attack from Windflower's Blaziken."

"_What?_"

Snapping back into reality as you jump from one roof to the next one, you just now notice that he's right. This is mostly because in the next instant, something hot slams into you like a car on fire.


End file.
